sweet violet.

From The suns babies by Edith Howes.
Age Rating 2 to 4.

Start of Story

A little girl brought a violet plant and a pansy plant to her teacher. "See!" said she. "These were given to me. May I grow them in school?" "Certainly," said the teacher. "Here are two little pots. We will plant them both, and set them on the broad window-sill. You can water them each day, and we shall see how well they will grow." "This is dreadful," said the Pansy to the Violet, as they stood side by side on the window-sill. "How shall we bear the dust and heat of this room after the fresh sweet air of the garden? I am sure I shall die." "Oh! it is not quite so bad as that," said the Violet. "It certainly is not so pleasant as the garden, but when the window is opened one feels better." "My leaves are covered with dust already. How is one to breathe?" grumbled the Pansy. "So are mine," said the Violet; "but never mind. Don't think about it. Let us turn our attention to making our flowers." "You don't mean to say that you think of making a flower here!" cried the Pansy. "What would be the use? You would never be able to make good seed, for no bee or butterfly will ever find its way in amongst these close buildings." "One never knows what may happen," said the Violet; "and it is better to be busy than to mope." She set to work to make her flower, and took just as much care over it as if she had been out in the garden. She covered the slender stalk and pointed sepals with soft white fur, and filled her seed-box with tiny green balls. Then she drew honey guides down her blue silk petals, made her pollen, and filled her quaint honey-bag with honey, just as if she expected a bee or a butterfly at any moment. "You are wasting your time," said the Pansy, who was doing nothing. "I am busy, and that keeps me happy," said the Violet. She scented her petals and set their brushes on them. "My violet has a flower on it!" cried the little girl. "Oh, how sweet it smells!" She watched the sun shining through the blue petals as the flower hung over the pot, and her eyes shone with pleasure. All through the day she turned to look at the Violet as soon as each little task was done, and at night she told her mother what had happened. "I shall not mind if no bee finds me now," said the Violet. "My flower has given so much happiness that I am content, even if I never make good seed." The Pansy had nothing to say. A few days later a wonderful thing happened. A bee came buzzing in at the open window and flew straight to the Violet. "Sweet Violet," he said, "I have found you at last. Your scent came out to me as I was passing, and I have sought for you in all the windows. Have you any honey for me?" "Plenty!" cried the Violet joyfully. "Dip deep and take all I have, dear friend." "Thank you," said the Bee. "I will give you some pollen from your cousins in return. They are blooming in a window-box in the next street." He brushed tiny pollen grains off his head and gave them to the Violet. "Thank you," said the Violet. "Please take some of mine back to my cousins." She laid some of hers on his head, and he flew off. Filled with joy, the Violet set to work to make her little green balls into seeds. "Well, if I had thought a bee really would come, I would have made a flower too," said the Pansy.